


As Above, So Below

by DrainCyanide



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Asexual Relationship, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrainCyanide/pseuds/DrainCyanide
Summary: A nice and accurate narration of Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship after the very first day of the rest of their lives.





	As Above, So Below

**Author's Note:**

> So... Another Good Omens fanfic, am I right? Well, perhaps this site is completely full by them at this point, especially after the TV show, and I feel that nothing I write will be good enough for this amazing fandom, yet here I am, trying to offer something inspired by this beautiful masterpiece that has deeply caught my heart for the rest of my life. I hope I'm up to this task, though. It's just such a great responsibility.  
In addition, I couldn't choose between the book and the TV series. So I picked both. I tried to reconcile their differences, but most importantly, I decided to portray all the TV show's personalities. Plus, I also picked a few things from the script book because we've been robbed multiple times and that's not fair at all. Queen is, obviously, very important here, and I leave as a humble suggestion to listen to them as Bentley plays their songs through the story, especially due to its different moods. Lastly, I put nearly all my headcanons, although I'm quite sure that, when I finish this line, there will be more two or three headcanons blossoming in my mind.  
Oh, and one last important note: English is not my native language, but I really tried my best. Maybe it's not hard enough, but from the bottom of my heart, I really wanted to share the love I feel towards this angel and this demon. I hope you like it!
> 
> PS: Mr. Sheen, if you're here, this one is for you ♡

It’s ineffable.

It’s ineffable, although two of my creations were very close to the truth. Or at least, had been very close to the truth if their inaptitude to see beyond the obviousness hasn’t been in the way. That and, of course, a sudden and subtle divine intervention. It doesn’t matter. In fact, if one could see the real intent of creation, it wouldn’t be ineffable at all and the whole point would be lost.

\---

Agnes Nutter predicted nicely and accurately what was about to happen in the following days of the rest of their lives. Yet, no one would be reading her predictions since her descendent Anathema Device burned the one and only manuscript written by the foreseeing witch. For Anathema, the future seemed peaceful and natural, flowing as it always should have been. That is, concerning her life. Agnes has predicted, here and there, other people’s life, and in this peculiar case, the lives of a demon and an angel. Perhaps Anathema wouldn’t be much surprised about the content, after all, she was very good at pointing out the obvious when no one else was willing to do it. However, the demon and the angel would even develop the ability to travel across time had they been given the opportunity to read those predictions.

A month has passed since the _thwarting_ of the Apocalypse. A word hasn’t been heard from both Heaven and Hell, not after the failing attempts to execute the traitors. And that was plainly marvelous for Aziraphale and Crowley. Yet, it didn’t mean they weren’t struggling with problems of their own.

“I’m telling you, angel. I’ve never liked my demon job, but now that I’m not forced to tempt people’s souls anymore, I’m kinda lost. I mean, what else could I do for a living?” the demon paced back and forth with a glass of wine on his right hand.

“Well, you could have a human, normal job, for a change. It doesn’t necessarily need to profit or be real, it could be just a façade, really. Take my bookshop as an example. I am not pleased at selling my books, this is why I make it very hard for my clients,” the angel straightened his glasses as he diverted his attention from the book to the demon.

“That’s because you’re a bastard. Not judging, that’s a compliment.”

“Offense not taken. But seriously, my dear, wouldn’t it be boring to spend the rest of your eternity without an activity?”

“That’s my point. I don’t want to. But my imagination is failing me.”

“And I suppose you’re expecting me to drop some ideas, am I correct?”

“Well, uh-- Yeah, you’re right,” Crowley gave in after all.

Aziraphale smirked, but not because he was right. He smirked because Crowley needed him. It was always a pleasure to be of assistance to his… best friend.

“First of all, you must wonder about things you like, things that catch your attention. It may be objects, activities, hobbies. Anything may help,” Aziraphale sat on the couch and closed the book, crossing his legs afterwards.

_I like you_, Crowley thought, but restrained himself before an embarrassing situation could emerge. “Bentley. And sleeping. Lots of sleeping. Dancing clubs. Wine,” he stood in front of the angel, showing him the glass, now empty.

“What about your houseplants?” Aziraphale asked, disdainfully.

“Implying that I _like_ plants, are we? No, I don’t. I just desire perfect leaves for a perfect decoration. That’s all. And you spoiled them. That’s on you.”

An interruption will be made for an explanation is needed. Aziraphale has met Crowley’s houseplants the night they’ve changed bodies. When Crowley was not looking, Aziraphale praised and flooded them with love and care, as expected from a creature of love. It turns out the plants _knew_ Crowley was soft towards the angel. They were still afraid of him, but now they had _hope_ the demon would eventually fall for kindness. And nothing ruins evil plans more than hope. It’s also important to mention that Crowley has never executed his beloved houseplants. He simply miracled them away to gardens, parks and pavements all over the city. At this point, it’s common knowledge that the demon has a good heart, although he would kill anyone that dared tell his deepest secret.

“Oh, dear. It’s such a shame you would turn out to be a terrible florist. I can feel the potential within you,” Aziraphale taunted him.

“Haha, very funny. Out of question. Next.”

“How about a car dealer?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t sell cars. It’s just like you with books.”

“A mattress company?”

“Too boring.”

“Wines?”

“I would drink it all before I could restock.”

“Well, the last option is the so-called dancing club. It suits you, considering it would be those modern ones, all dark and fueled by bad music,” Aziraphale resigned.

“Hey, wait a sec. Are you saying my musical taste is bad? My _Bentley_’s musical taste?”

“Oh, forget what I’ve just said. You wouldn’t take this option anyway.”

“Well, maybe I could give a thought…” Crowley pondered, sitting on the other couch. “In any case, it’s late and I’m eager to sleep for-- I don’t know, days. Haven’t had much of rest since Hell and Heaven joined forces to eliminate us, those bastards.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale sounded disenchanted.

In fact, he was expecting to spend the rest of the night at Crowley’s company, which is unusual considering the angel is always the first one to drop hints that he’d rather be alone at some point. Tonight was an exception. The angel wasn’t very good at hiding what he was truly feeling, and Crowley had 6,000 years to learn reading his facial expressions.

“Unless-- You’re not tired of my presence. Then I could stay for another glass of wine,” the demon smirked with confidence. He could leave the bookshop and make the angel desire his company for the rest of the night, but he wasn’t that type of demon. Crowley simply loved pleasing Aziraphale, it gave him purpose and, obviously, a slight sensation of satisfaction.

“Balderdash! I’m getting you another bottle, hold on,” the angel said, heading to the back room.

And done. Although uncertainty crossed the demon’s mind here and there, it was during these moments that he knew the angel had sympathy for the devil. Crowley wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but it certainly made his existence pleasant. However, there was something unnatural lurking his thoughts. Unnatural because it was all about voices, and usually it’s the other way around. Demons are the ones who whisper on people’s ears so they may fall into temptation and sin, thus guaranteeing souls for the dark lords. Crowley has never heard any inner voices, that is, until now.

_You ought to tell him._

_But you’re not worthy, for Heaven’s sake! You’re a demon!_

What started with a flimsy whisper was now a whole ominous sonata. The only thing he wasn’t entirely sure was whether it was composed by Tartini or Paganini. In any case, it was certainly devil’s work.

_Oh, I’m so sorry for all these centuries tempting humans. I can finally relate and tell what it feels like to have two opposite voices in your head. It sucks_, Crowley mourned, this time with a thought of his own.

Aziraphale returned with the bottle, interrupting his self-loathing.

“Finally!” the demon barely waited for a toast and gulped the whole glass.

The angel noticed the change in his humor, but didn’t ask why. Instead, he simply stood by his side and shared the wine while they slowly grew drunker and drunker. One would be surprised at how 6,000 years has never worn out the conversation between them. They could spend hours recalling the human history, or their own personal moments together. The last one was a favorite subject given the current situation. Not because they finally realized it was worth forsaking their respective offices so they could save the world, no. It was because they were in love with each other.

\---

Crowley wasn’t lying when he said he needed sleeping. For hours, he bravely struggled against the temptation of closing his eyes and giving up. Demons and angels are not bonded to physiological needs of their human vessels, which means they don’t need sleeping, eating and other unpleasant activities. But again, Aziraphale and Crowley went native. While the angel developed an overwhelming desire of eating, the demon was weak to Morpheus. They both loved their respective human passions and couldn’t resist them for much longer.

This is why Crowley succumbed. Aziraphale was drunk enough to keep his monologue for another twenty minutes, but after this period, he finally noticed the demon was fast sleeping on his couch.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed faintly. “It’s almost time to open the bookshop. Well, I suppose a miracle won’t hurt.”

The angel sobered up, returning the wine to the bottles and regretting the taste left in his mouth. Then, he waved his hand delicately. Crowley disappeared. More accurately, he was moved from the couch to the room upstairs. Even more accurately, he was moved to Aziraphale’s bedroom. It was not like the angel used it often anyway, he wasn’t up to spend his precious hours sleeping. He’d rather be reading. The only thing he was certain was the fact that he was not capable of waking up Crowley, it would feel like interrupting Aziraphale in the middle of a delightful meal. And that was an argument good enough to justify his little miracle.

The demon didn’t know yet, but he was covered by soft sheets. He would later recall a distant time when he was once familiar with heavenly feelings. But for now, his mind was busy producing incredible dreams of things he loved the most. The list, to no one’s surprise, included his Bentley and, of course, his favorite angel. Whether it was Aziraphale’s blessing or not, he couldn’t tell.

Crowley was driving across an unknown freeway – definitely not the M25 – and Aziraphale was beside him. They were sharing a lovely conversation about birds and dinosaurs when the Bentley’s radio changed the tune. What once sounded like “It’s a kind of magic” suddenly turned into a soft piano followed by a melodic harp. At first, it resembled Heaven’s gates. That is, until Freddie’s voice emerged, mixing perfectly the best of both worlds.

_Love of my life, don’t leave me_

_You’ve taken my love and now desert me_

_Love of my life, can’t you see?_

_Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me_

_Because you don’t know what it means to me_

An awkward silence emerged from their previous enthusiastic conversation. It might be possible that, in the past, Crowley feared that Aziraphale might leave him behind, willingly or not. But since this was a dream, not a nightmare, this fear no longer held water. Aziraphale wasn’t going anywhere.

“You see,” the angel started, “I’ve never apologized for my behavior when I-- I refused working with you. It was my duty to report Heaven immediately. I _ought_ to tell them, but truth be told, I _wanted_ to tell you first.”

“Oh. You know what, angel? That’s fine. We’re on our side now. Plus, those bastards are the worst. The few minutes I’ve spent with them made my vaguely sauntering downwards all worth it. It’s not surprising you were scared of them.”

“I wasn’t scared of Heaven,” Aziraphale rebutted, annoyed.

“You were,” Crowley uttered with a smirk. “But it’s all over. For now, at least. I just pity you. You have no one else but me, which is, uh… ”

“Exquisite, my dear.”

“Is that even a word?” the demon rambled, raising an eyebrow.

Since dreams are not linear and much less logical, the Bentley pulled over right at a vast landscape. There was a hill at the front that smoothly headed downwards to a breathtaking field of sunflowers, which extended further than the horizon. At the top of the hill, they settled a light blue tablecloth and sit side by side. Aziraphale put the basket on the tablecloth and began to unpack the supplies. First, two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Then, he settled the plates and handkerchiefs, and lastly, there were grapes, sandwiches and muffins quite abundantly. They toasted and sipped the champagne while the sun slowly touched the horizon.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s face, which was slightly yellow and orange due to the shades of the sunset. It looked lovely, more than ever. The demon was hiding his eyes behind the dark glasses, as usual, but if they were off, it would reveal how much in love his staring eyes were. Instead, the only sign of a smitten demon was his discreet smile. On the other hand, Aziraphale has never been good at hiding his facial expressions. He was definitely, ultimately in love with Crowley. It was on his eyes, on his smile, on his breath. It was everywhere for everyone to see. They simply knew, although it has never been put into words. That is, until that moment.

“Angel. I love you.”

Aziraphale smiled even wider, looking away for a minute due to the embarrassment. After a brief pause, he replied.

“I love you too, Crowley.”

The demon straightened his body a little and switched the glass to the other hand, the one that was not next to Aziraphale. The reason was because he wanted to hold hands. And he did. Slowly, he reached the angel’s hand, fondling it with his fingers so smoothly the angel could barely feel it. They first interlaced their index fingers timidly, and one by one, their hands were fully interwoven. Aziraphale hesitated for a short time, but soon gave in and approached Crowley gradually. His head leaned over the demon’s shoulder, the touch as soft as cotton clouds. The demon followed the gesture, doing the same. They remained there, watching the last flashes of sunlight fade and the first stars shine above them.

\---

It was almost noon when the demon abruptly woke up. He didn’t want to, obviously, but the feeling of unease was growing up on his mind as the time passed by. Something was very wrong, although it felt very right. Of course, he was on Aziraphale’s bedroom. Crowley felt like a destiny’s ironic joke. Not because it seemed he had slept with an angel. The irony was he _hadn’t_, even though he was lying on his bed. The worse came soon afterwards, as he remembered the heavenly dream.

He buried his palms into his face. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if they were just together? No need for words, for romantic first declarations. _I mean, it feels like we’re already a couple, but it was never made official, and that’s the worst part. I really need to tell him. Damn it,_ the demon wondered, unpleasant. Crowley was afraid, not because he could be rejected. He was afraid because Aziraphale could push him away in case he didn’t feel the same. At some point, it was obvious the angel loved him, but it could also be a misinterpretation of his actions. On the other hand, that seed was growing bigger and bigger inside his heart. He _had_ to tell him.

As he went downstairs, he made up his mind. The demon found the angel reading a book on his desk. There was just one client, a young woman that suddenly felt a sudden urge to puke, running way from the establishment as fast as she could.

“Heeeey, angel!” He put his hands on his pockets and looked away, as if nothing unusual was going on.

“Crowley! You’re up! Had nice dreams?”

He stunned with the question. It was indeed Aziraphale’s magic, after all. But he’d certainly not settle such a dream into his mind. No, the angel probably miracled sweet dreams, not their content. That was on Crowley.

“Can’t recall,” he lied. “Thanks for the, uh-- little miracle. You could just-- have left me on the couch, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Nonsense. I know how much you appreciate a good sleep time. Besides, I don’t use that room anyway. I only hope it was comfortable enough for you, though.”

“Oh, definitely. Heavenly sheets,” he paused for a brief moment. “So, uh-- I was thinking… Would you be interested in a picnic? It could be at St. James’, or wherever place you wish to go…”

“A picnic?” Aziraphale recalled that time he suggested such an _activity_, back in 1967. “Wouldn’t… I mean, wouldn’t it be too public for us since we’re wanted by our lo-- _former_ lots?”

“Nah, they’ll leave us alone now. They’re afraid of our powers. It’ll be just us. Think of it as dining at the Ritz, only without fancy music and a roof to cover the sky.”

“Well,” Aziraphale hesitated. _I still feel it’s just too fast for me… But I do owe you, _he pondered before answering. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Good. Then I… I’ll be going now. Oh, and-and… If-if-if a picnic is too much for you, there’s always the Ritz, you know? Just name it, I’ll take you to any place you like.”

The angel smiled in relief, then nodded. Crowley took other few seconds contemplating him, and lastly turned and walked away. It was always hard for him to do such a move. He could spend an eternity just staring at Aziraphale. He has been doing it for the last 6,000 years, after all.

When the demon left, the angel caught himself distracted. His eyes were trying to read the words on the book, letter by letter, but his mind was elsewhere. Rather, with someone else. Crowley was terrible at his demonic work, but he was quite good at stealing things, mostly because it was ultimately hard to steal an angel’s heart – although he had no idea he was responsible for that.

On the one hand, Aziraphale was no longer struggling with the fact that he was in love with the opposition. There was no other side anymore, thus they were ironically allowed to fraternize with each other – not that they had choice anyway. And even though they did, they would do it all the same. The inner conflict now consisted of embracing this love. The angel was so used to be resigned with the idea that they would never consummate their love that, now that it was possible to become tangible, he was completely lost about what to do next. He has never gone that far.

Meanwhile, Crowley was in panic. As if the certainty of being unworthy of loving an angel wasn’t enough, he still had to deal with the fear of losing Aziraphale for good. But the anguish of keeping that feeling hidden was slowly eating him alive. He needed to tell him as soon as possible, otherwise his own existence would grow unbearable.

\---

As we are aware, angels can play dirty games as much as demons. Heaven and Hell have been both humiliated by the most incompetent traitors of all history and something ought to be done about it. They’ve tried execution, the most effective course of action, but the little trick deceived them all. Gabriel and Sandalphon were too antiquated to think of another approach that didn’t involve _slaughter_. However, Uriel and Michael were smarter, and as sadistic as their angel brothers.

“If we can’t touch Aziraphale physically, we should think of another way of hurting him,” Uriel pondered.

“He went native. At first, it may sound bad, but think again. He shares the same conditions of human beings, which means he’s submitted to the same weaknesses. Physical needs, emotions, feelings,” Michael was staring at the view, the whole world under his feet.

“Well… This may be difficult. What could we do about them? We barely pay attention to how they live.”

“Indeed. But _demons_ know how their minds work. They had to learn it in order to assure souls for their lot,” Michael’s posture didn’t change, only the tone of his voice.

“Are you saying that we should be in cahoots with the enemy?”

“For now. Don’t you think everything is justifiable for the greater good?”

“When you put that way, I can’t object. Will you tell Gabriel?” Uriel crossed his arms.

“Soon. First we should establish a temporary alliance with the enemy. I’ll be in touch with them.”

Uriel nodded and left the office. Michael kept staring at the world.

\---

Beelzebub was about to unleash his army of flies all over Hell. He was very sick of hearing Hastur’s ramblings and quite upset about the subject. Not to mention the demons behind the glass, with the endless uproars. His hand was the only thing that was bearing his tired head to tip, and his throne was the only responsible for keeping his body off the ground.

“I’m telling you, Lord Beelzebub. We should send another hellhound, this time with the straight order to eliminate the demon Crowley.”

“That’s not how hellhounds work,” he buzzed.

“How about an army of demons? Of course, he would be able to eliminate some of us, but that’s precisely why we have disposable ones, for Satan’s sake!”

“Hastur. Enough. I won’t send anyone to eliminate Crowley. If he succeeds in escaping our charges, Hell will riot. Do you have any idea what it’s like? Hell’s bad, but a Hell’s riot manages to be the worst scenario in all creation. I won’t tolerate _another_ riot.”

“But we ought to do something! He can’t live forever unpunished!”

Beelzebub started doubting his life choices when Michael showed before his eyes. The Lord of Hell thought the archangel just miracled his way through, but he actually took the elevator. That’s what happens when a leader is about to collapse due to boredom and tiredness.

“Hello, opposite creatures. Such a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What do you want, Michael?” Beelzebub rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I’m here to talk about the traitors.”

_Satan give me strength, I’m THIS close to lose it_, thought the Lord of Hell. Hastur, on the other hand, rejoiced. Since they’ve cooperated before in order to eliminate those bastards, another alliance was entirely welcome.

“Be brief,” _please_, he begged in the safety of his mind.

“We angels came to the conclusion that the traitors can’t be hurt. That is, physically. Aziraphale and Crowley have grown native, which means they’ve succumbed to human traits. In other words, they share the same weaknesses than humans. I’m here to discuss what it can be done about this information and offer you our heavenly cooperation.”

“Why have you come all the way down to Hell to tell us this?”

“Well, you see--” Michael was embarrassed, but the Lord of Hell knew the answer.

“Unless, of course, that your lot has no idea of how easily manipulated humans can be,” the flies around Beelzebub buzzed louder as he smiled. “Well, that settles it. We shall discuss a course of action. _Privately_!”

The demons behind the glass booed and walked away gradually. Hastur stayed, and Dagon joined them.

“You’re very lucky, Michael, you’re about to learn a demon’s lesson,” Beelzebub stood up from his throne and put his hands behind his back. “We demons manipulate humans through emotions. Mostly, _forbidden_ ones.”

“Indeed, but how are we going to unveil what forbidden emotions those bastards possess? We haven’t kept proper track of their personal lives,” Hastur stepped in.

“This is why you’re a frog and Crowley is a snake, Hastur. You can’t see it even when it’s right in front of your eyes.”

_Love_.

\---

Crowley’s old-fashioned phone rang. The demon walked from the houseplants hall and headed to the desk, slithering as usual. His composure was lost when he saw the number.

“Yes?” he tried to reply normally, but his heart was pounding.

“Crowley? It’s me. Aziraphale.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I know when you’re calling because I have your number?” he teased the angel’s inaptitude to understand technology, although the demon was a few years behind it as well.

“Listen,” he changed the subject, “I thought about what you suggested me yesterday. The answer is yes.”

“W-W-W--” the words failed Crowley.

“Crowley? Are you there?”

“Y-Y-Yes! Good! Good! Uh… How about tomorrow? It’s Sunday, always full of families and-and--” he almost said _couples_, but Aziraphale interrupted him.

“Mostly wonderful! Then, I’ll see you at ten at St. James’. I’ll bring muffins!”

Now Crowley was really doubting how much Aziraphale interfered in that dream. It was becoming quite real and he felt certain unease raise all the way up to his core. But St. James’s Park wasn’t in a hill over a field of sunflowers, which was slightly less stressful. Preparations were needed, so he left his apartment in a hurry.

\---

Crowley was staring at the bottles at the liquor store. He was in the mood for champagne, but he didn’t want a dream to guide his life. He picked wine. The demon knew the angel had standards, so he got the most expensive one. It would be a nice accompaniment for the chocolates. Aziraphale loved chocolates.

However, as he headed towards the Bentley around the corner, the bags on his hands, an intervention occurred. He was cornered by an angel – and it was not the one he had in mind.

“Hold your step, Crowley. We must talk.”

“The Archangel Michael?” Crowley clenched the chocolate box against his chest, tighter and tighter, nearly scrunching it up.

“We won’t hurt you,” Michael replied vaguely. What he meant was, _we won’t hurt you, physically. We’ll smite you emotionally_.

“Excuse my lack of faith, but that’s hard to believe,” his back pressing the wall harder and harder as the archangel approached him.

“We’ve learned we can’t hurt you, be Heaven’s or Hell’s. There’s no point in insisting on such doomed task. I’m here to talk about our lost lamb, Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale?” the demon inquired smoothly.

“Yes. You might be a lost cause, a traitor to both our lots. You’re way too far from redemption at this point. But Aziraphale still can be saved from your hellish hands. He’s too easily influenced, and naïve. It was you who spoiled him and took him off the right path.”

“Oh, I’m sure your lot did a great job trying to persuade him to the right path, I mean, with all the punching and setting him into demonic fire,” Crowley raised his head to equal Michael’s. He was very enraged now. He was there, he saw how Heaven treated _his_ angel.

“You _are_ a demon. You’re naturally able to persuade anyone with your bifurcate tongue, you snake. It was your first great accomplishment, wasn’t it? Do you really think Aziraphale would be capable of rejecting Heaven only because of you?”

Crowley stunned, speechless.

“I’m sure he’s better off without you bastards,” he gathered strength to rebut.

“Oh, I’m not so certain. I’ve never seen anyone better off with the devil. I might say it just once. Leave Aziraphale alone. Do not interact with him, do not fraternize with him. We’re reconsidering a forgiveness pass, and you’re the only thing standing between us. Heaven is not as mercy as you’d think. We won’t be forgiving for all eternity.”

“You’re willing to forgive him?”

“Yes. And accept him back. As long as he isn’t involved with you anymore. We’re enemies, after all.”

Michael stepped back, staring at Crowley’s dispirit face. The plan had worked, it only needed a final blow.

“You took Heaven from him, Crowley. If you truly love Aziraphale, you’ll leave him alone from now on.”

Michael disappeared. They knew. They were plenty aware of the joke about a demon who has fallen in love with an angel – although it felt more like a tragedy at that point.

Crowley left the wine and the chocolates in the rubbish bin and got in the Bentley. He didn’t want to drive home at the company of his own thoughts, so he turned the radio on.

_Once I could see the good in me_

_The black and the white distinctively_

_Coloring, holding the world inside_

_Now all the world is gray to me_

_Nobody can see_

_You gotta believe it_

_Oh, oh, the night comes down_

_And I get afraid of losing my way_

_Oh, oh, the night comes down_

_Ooh, and it's dark again_

It could be for the best if he didn’t, but deep down, he wasn’t regretful of turning the radio on. He needed a catalyst for his tears to come out.

\---

Aziraphale was radiantly sorting the items of his basket. There were Scotch eggs, Ale pies, scones, grapes, Yorkshire puddings and, as he promised, muffins. He gathered them by several establishments all over London, the best ones he tried over the years. Everything ought to be perfect.

“Oh, the tablecloth and the dishes! How in the world would we be possibly able to eat? We’re not animals,” he mumbled.

The gramophone was playing Seitz’s Concert No. 2, more precisely, the third movement. The music was vivid and joyful, the perfect mood for the occasion.

Without noticing, Aziraphale was cheerfully dancing along with the rhythm across the bookshop as he settled the books back to their places. It couldn’t be helped, he felt like floating even without his wings.

\---

The next morning, Aziraphale took the bus to St. James’s Park. He arrived earlier than expected, even for a distinguished English gentleman. He waited for Crowley at the main entrance, this way the demon wouldn’t miss him. His smile was brighter than usual and his hands could barely contain the basket due to the excitement.

But as the minutes slowly passed by and became hours, so his smile slowly faded. Crowley was late. Really late.

_Where in Hell is he,_ the angel inquired.

He first tried to feel the demon’s presence around the park. Nothing. Then, he spread the range. First, to the neighborhood, and lastly to the whole city. Still nothing. He could be hiding his presence from Aziraphale, that was possible. But there was no reason to do it so.

The angel stood in the entrance until the sun faded and the moon took its place. He was used to it, since it was his function as the guardian of the Eastern Gate. But this time was the hardest he has ever experienced, mostly due to his own thoughts.

He watched people who earlier walked by him now leaving the park. With a resigned sigh, he finally decided.

_He’s not coming, I should go back to the bookshop._

He was wrong about the hardest part, though. The way back took the prize. His heart was forcing him to have a breakdown while he was in the bus, but his mind was fighting back to hold it until he could come home. He didn’t want people to notice it, after all.

When he finally closed the bookshop door, the mood for tears was already gone. There was only sadness left, and a feeling of abandonment. He wasn’t angry, though. Perhaps a bit concerned, which led him to stare at the old telephone.

Aziraphale left the basket on the table, untouched. He hasn’t eaten that day yet. For a long time, he wondered if he should call Crowley. Something could have happened, and his pride was getting in the way. But if nothing were afoot, then it would mean the demon didn’t care about the angel anymore.

He dialed.

“Hi, this is Anthony Crowley.”

“Crowley?”

“You know what to do. Do it with style.”

_ Oh, it might be those recorded messages he keep talking about, I suppose_, Aziraphale concluded. He put the phone on the hook and looked around.

The bookshop was really empty without the demon. And lonely. The angel wasn’t pleased with sleeping, but since he was tired and there was nothing else to do, he lied on the couch, maybe for the first time ever. He interlaced his hands and looked at the ceiling. There weren’t smudges anymore, not since Adam rebooted reality.

_Oh, I could pay them a visit_, the angel thought right before the sleep took him over.

\---

There’s the common knowledge that I conceded all living creatures the right to choose, i.e., free will. This is only half correct. When people have ideas that might look they came from nowhere, or when they have sensitive skills susceptible to the occult, that’s when supernatural forces are in action. In fact, there are invisible forces pushing people towards places and other beings. A personal favorite is the idea called “aka ito”, which states two lovers are born connected by an invisible red thread attached to their pinky fingers. No matter how much time passes, or how far from each other they are, they will find a way to come together.

Obviously, this is just a legend. People are not attached to one another by invisible strings. But, if the legend were indeed real, one could say that Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t possess a red thread. Instead, they would share a golden chain, harder than steel and stronger than a thousand storms.

For this very reason, Crowley thought he was choosing to visit Tadfield before running away to another galaxy. It was just morning when he left, but his indecision made him drive in circles around London before finally taking the motorway.

“I just want to clarify something first, which is fine. It’s fine, I know what she’s going to say. She’ll be like ‘You’re absolutely right, Mr. Crowley. Well done, Mr. Crowley. I’d have done the same in your shoes’. Yep. I know she’s gonna say that. I just want to be sure, that’s all,” he talked to himself as the Bentley’s radio played Ysaye’s sonata no. 3.

_I’ve fallen in love_

_I’ve fallen in love for the first time_

_And this time I know it’s for real_

_I’ve fallen in love_

_God knows_

_God knows I’ve fallen in love_

There he was, driving all the way down to Tadfield, convincing himself that the M25 would not burn this time, although the Odegra symbol was still there and cars still acted like water in a prayer wheel. It felt like the Apocalypse all over again, except for the burning car and the burning circle. Well, it was Crowley’s end of the world when one assumes that Aziraphale was his world.

Some miles later, the Bentley was slowly searching for the peculiar cottage. The demon barely remembered how it was. He was too annoyed about the accident with the book girl to pay attention to any details. There was a man with a familiar face in the middle of the road, carrying his dog and walking faster as the car approached. Crowley pulled over:

“Good evening, sir. Sorry to bother, but I’m looking for a specific cottage. I can’t recall its looks, but I do know a young girl lives in there. Long, curly hair, old-fashioned clothes. Always carries a book. Would you know anything about her?”

R. P. Tyler’s mind went blank. He didn’t remember that Crowley was once right in front of him while his car was on fire. Actually, he forced himself to forget something as unbelievable as that has ever happened.

“I believe you’re talking about that American wicked woman that lives at Jasmine Cottage, all the way down. Young man, I strongly advise you not to visit her. There’s a solid belief in this village that she’s indeed a witch, up to evil deeds and dark sorcery. I’ve been talking to my neighbors – and the Neighborhood Watch – to take some action before something dreadful happens to our dear community. Wouldn’t y-- ”

“That’s the one I’m looking for!” the demon smiled as the radio played loudly.

_She’s a Killer Queen_

_Gunpowder, gelatin_

_Dynamite with a laser beam_

_Guaranteed to blow your mind_

_Anytime_

“Alright, thank you for your assistance. Have a nice day, bye!” the demon speeded up and vanished on the horizon. R. P. Tyler shook his head in disapproval and kept taking care of other’s people lives as he walked down the street.

Crowley slithered the Bentley across the road and reached his destination. He took a brief moment before entering the garden and pressing the doorbell, which was good because it gave him time to notice the horseshoe above the entrance. Instead, he stayed at the fence.

“Oh, great, the girl doesn’t want evil forces lurking around, does she?” he mumbled.

The demon then decided to turn away and drive without a destination in mind. But a sarcastic voice interrupted him before he could reach the car.

“Back to steal more books?”

“Book girl! Always sharp, uh?”

“What brings you all the way to Jasmine Cottage, mister?”

“Crowley! You never caught my name, right?” he hesitated, but Anathema remained still and serious. “Well, uh, I was just passing by and decided to pay you a visit. That’s what old friends do, right?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Ouch. Tough crowd,” Crowley put his hands in his pockets. “Alright. I need to talk to you. Don’t know why, I just had a feeling you’d be the right person.”

“Is it about your husband?”

“My _what_?”

“The soft man who was with you when you gave me and my bicycle a lift home. You called him ‘angel’. Isn’t it a pet name?”

“Oh! Oh. That…” Crowley stunned for a moment.

It is important to take note that Crowley started calling Aziraphale that way from the very beginning as a sarcastic and ironic statement. But since he grew native as the years passed, he also became pretty aware that ‘angel’ was a human pet name. That said, there were two problems. First, there wasn’t sarcasm or irony left anymore. He was subconsciously praising the qualities that this pet name carries once Aziraphale had it all. Secondly, he wasn’t aware that humans might misinterpret the gesture. And truth be told, deep down, he really wanted that to happen, in the hopes that Aziraphale also noticed how much the demon cared about him and held him dearly.

“It’s just an inside joke, honestly,” he covered the real intention behind it. “But you’re right, it’s about him.”

“Fine. Come in.”

“I actually can’t--” he stalled.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I _can’t_. That horseshoe over there, it won’t let me in. Long story, I’ll explain it all.”

“Oh, never noticed we had one of these.”

“Yeah, all cool and nice. What I _can_ do is sit on that bench over there, if there’s no problem,” Crowley crossed his arms, waiting for an invitation. Demons do need permission to come in.

Newt appeared by Anathema’s back and stared at the man in black clothes and dark glasses. He remembered vaguely that someone like him was involved in that day which no one could quite recall, for some reason or another.

“Something’s wrong?” he whispered at her.

“This man here needs romantic advice to get his angel back. I have no idea why he has looked for me, though,” she replied.

\---

“That’s the shortest explanation I could offer, honestly,” Crowley concluded.

“Okay, let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’re a demon – or a fallen angel that sauntered vaguely downwards, whatever – who is in love with an angel for 6,000 years and hasn’t told him yet? And now you want to leave him because you think that’s for the better?”

“He says I go too fast for him!” he shouted in rebuttal.

“Excuses, all excuses.”

“I tried, alright? I asked him to run away with me when this Apocalypse baloney was right over the corner. He rejected me. Twice. He’s not interested in me, he just… appreciates my presence, that’s all. And-- And this is not even the point. He loves Heaven, he’s loyal to them. That’s the only opportunity he has to go back to them. I just… I really need to know if I’m doing the right thing.”

“Running away from it without talking to him first? Listen, I’m a witch, not a therapist. And to be honest, I have no idea why you sought me to talk about your ancient Shakespearian romance. But even I know this is wrong. You can’t choose what’s best for him.”

“Well, I’m here because you’re the most reasonable person that I know. And I ought to admit that you’re right. But I can’t see how choosing me is better than choosing Heaven.”

“That guy in a suit that kept talking about the Great Plan? He’s from Heaven, isn’t he? He seemed a little of a prick, if you ask me.”

“Gabriel? Yeah, he is,” they chuckled.

“Listen, Mr. Crowley. The whole problem here is that you think you’re not good enough for your angel. But you’re a good demon – if that’s even possible. And he’s probably very hurt for being abandoned by the only person that stood up by his side since the beginning. What you must do now is go after him, apologize and tell him the truth. All of it. Especially that part which you’re entirely _smitten_ with him.”

“I’m not _smitten_. I’m just… hopelessly enchanted by his heavenly existence.”

“Call it whatever you want. I’m sure he feels the same. I mean, to bear your childish, endless whining for millennia, it’s just-- wow.”

“Hey. Not cool, book girl.”

“It’s Anathema. Anathema Device, thanks for asking.”

They shook hands as a sign of friendship and gratitude.

\---

“The plan was a success. I guarantee the demon Crowley is now far away from London, and possibly the world. And he’s hurt as much as if he were being tortured, which I believe is a satisfactory score to your lot,” Michael reported.

“What did you say to him?” Beelzebub was once more leaning over his throne, a little less bored than the last time he had a conversation with the archangel.

“Only the truth. I’m an angel, after all.”

“Many different things can be considered truth according to one’s point of view, Michael. And you do tell lies. Or did you tell your boss Gabriel you’re here?”

“He’s not my boss. And I feel a tone of a threat coming from your muddy mouth.”

A tense atmosphere grew over Hell – not that it hasn’t had one already. Only bitter and stronger, in this case. The silence was the conductor as the climax approached.

“Nah, I’m just teasing you. What about your angel? Is he suffering because of Crowley?” he buzzed in amusement.

“We don’t know yet. He locked himself inside that stupid bookshop and refuses to leave. We’ve tried some distractions to lure his attention, but Aziraphale is just too adamant.”

“Really? At this point, it’s not even surprising that your lot came to us seeking advice.” Dagon, who was by the Lord of Hell’s side, laughed. Michael didn’t understand the implication behind Beelzebub’s statement, so he proceeded. “Lucifer was right, angels _are_ dumb. Here’s the thing, dear. He’s already suffering. If Aziraphale considers the bookshop his home, his safe place, then he’s mourning where no one can see. He was abandoned, after all.

“So why don’t you pay him a visit to make sure?”

”We just might.”

\---

Aziraphale had strange dreams. Heaven’s gate was closed and he was outside, waiting for someone to open it or invite him in. No one showed up. On the other hand, the stairway to Hell was functioning all the way down. He felt a sudden impulse, persuading him to take it. But something stopped him. It was Crowley’s hand.

Neither Heaven nor Hell would have Aziraphale. They were suddenly floating and staring at Earth, which was beneath their feet. They were wearing the same clothes from the Garden of Eden, with bare feet and soft, monochromatic tunics.

“This is our home now, angel. We can be whoever we want. We can be ourselves,” Crowley’s wings were unfolded, beautiful and blacker than a moonless night.

“But my side--”

“There’s only our side now, angel. There’s nothing to be afraid of, there’s nothing to worry about. No one will hurt you, I promise. Please, show me what you’ve been hiding all your life because of fear. Tell me the truth.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, his wings also unfolded. They were as white as a snowy forest. Slowly, they stretched and went back to its natural shape.

“The truth is, I’ve always been afraid of confessing how much I’m in love with you. Heaven would never allow it. This feeling is forbidden. And wrong.”

“Nah. They will leave us alone now. And answer me this one. Aren’t you a creature of love, designed to cherish this feeling? Do you still think it’s wrong to love, mostly when God designed you this way?” Crowley inquired with a timid smile.

“Well, I’ve never seen love as a bad thing,” the angel smiled back, his cheeks blushing and his eyes glimmering. Lastly, he chuckled, entirely certain of his next words. “I do love you, Crowley. And since there’s nothing else to hold me back anymore, I am finally free to make my own choices. I made up my mind. Do you want to hear it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well…” Aziraphale took another deep breath. “I choose love,” the angel said with a tender, lovely voice while gazing into the demon’s eyes. Then, he held his hand soon afterwards and added. “I choose loving you.”

Crowley felt like melting, but stood still and reached Aziraphale’s face with his free hand, very slowly and carefully. His fingers caressed the angel’s skin as if he touched the most delicate and sacred flower of all creation. Lastly, the demon kissed his forehead.

What happened after this, Aziraphale couldn’t tell. He woke up. That is, was woken up by the unceasing knocking on his bookshop front door.

“We’re closed!” he cried while rubbing his eyes. _That’s why I don’t sleep. Things like that cross my mind and I hate it, I feel like a fool_, he thought as he sat on the couch.

The noisy knocking persisted, crawling into the angel’s ears like a million stone crushers hitting all London streets at the same time.

“Oh, dear Lord!” the angel stood up and headed to the door. He was about to utter harsh words when the sight in front of him paralyzed his core.

“Hello, Aziraphale. Can we come in?”

“B-B-Beelzebub? And, and Dagon, I believe?” he stuttered in fear.

“Yes. We need a word with you. It’s about Crowley,” the Lord of Hell buzzed while the Lord of Files gazed at him glarefully.

Aziraphale was quite confused with the whole situation and couldn’t offer the demons a quick response. Instead, he just kept stammering.

“We need you to invite us to come in,” Dagon explained, tired of waiting.

“W-Well, I thought that was vampires.”

“Different kind. Same rules.”

The angel did make room for them to come in. He could have refused, but Crowley could be in trouble, which would also explain why he hasn’t showed up to their picnic. At least, it was precisely what Aziraphale was hoping, although the scenario was terrifying enough. He could have offered them tea, however he wasn’t in the mood to behave like a true gentleman, especially when his guests were demons. Obviously, Crowley was the only exception.

“W-What can I do for you today?”

“You may think we’re enemies, dear. And you’re right to assume that. But we’re not here to threaten you. The reason behind our visit is based on sympathy, as surprising as it sounds,” Dagon started, wandering across the bookshop interior and looking at the majestic shelves around the room.

“Sympathy?” the angel inquired.

“Yes. We know you hold him dearly. And although we do _not_ care about you or your feelings, we’re here to warn you. We’ve been watching his steps since-- well, since you both ruined our war. It’s all tactical, we ought to watch our enemies.”

“The important thing is, our intelligence reported that he has left London. For good,” Beelzebub concluded Dagon’s train of thought.

“He… left?”

“Yes. He knew we were watching him and ran away in fear. We were hoping you could tell us where he went off to, but it seems you have no idea as well,” Beelzebub crossed his arms and stared at the angel.

“That’s… That’s very unlikely of him. He would have told me,” Aziraphale wasn’t thinking about the leaked information falling into the opposition’s hands at that point anymore. He was just stating his own mind, trying to convince himself that Crowley wouldn’t do it.

“I suppose you don’t know him, after all,” Dagon replied with a sadistic smile.

6,000 years weren’t enough to know someone? Aziraphale wasn’t so sure anymore. They had a history together. More importantly, they’ve conceived a brilliant plan to mislead Heaven and Hell. Crowley wouldn’t be afraid of them, it was certainly the other way around. For a few seconds, the angel’s intellect spoke louder.

“How can I trust a demon’s word? For all I know, your lot could have captured him and used this to get me into your dirty trick.”

“We admit we cannot hurt you both. We’ve tried. But you’re right. However, with that in mind, one must wonder… if no one can hurt him and he has no reason to be afraid of us, why would he flee then?” Beelzebub was finally getting exactly where he wanted to.

“Oh, Lord Beelzebub. Perhaps – now that I’m looking at him – Perhaps he ran away because he grew tired of the angel,” Dagon speculated.

“Hmmm,” he buzzed. “Yes, he does look very annoying. And boring. And old-fashioned.”

“I mean, there are so many human beings to direct our interests to, it’s not like the angel here is special in any matter.”

“I-- I find your words very offensive, mostly considering this is my home. Are you finished? Because I’d like to be alone now!” Aziraphale was hanging by a thread.

Dagon shrugged and turned his back on the angel. Beelzebub followed and they left without a farewell.

The air still smelled sulfur when the angel closed the door. Aziraphale leaned over it and used his mightiest strength to hold his feelings, but his body started feeling increasing palpitations. He caught himself hyperventilating. More and more, he was about to give in. Then he did. Tears rolled from his eyes by the very first time in his immortal life. He first thought of shrinking on the very entrance of the bookshop and spent some hours mourning the pain inside his heart, but he had standards, after all. Instead, the angel sat on the couch, his back perfectly upright and his posture exemplary. That is, until the demons’ words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the possibility that Crowley might have left him behind. The dearest creature who he was ever met, the only one who has ever been allowed to truly know his heart. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself, but he failed all over again. He bent and led his hands to his face, ashamed of his feelings. It was hurting like hell.

\---

“I could turn him into stone. We haven’t tried that yet,” Sandalphon suggested.

“It won’t work. He’s still a principality. Yet, I might have an idea,” Gabriel continued. “We’ve been discussing how to hurt him for days, but what if – listen carefully, it will blow your mind, metaphorically speaking – what if we hurt something that is dear to him? There must be something on Earth that he really loves.”

“Is there? I thought angels didn’t care about material belongings.”

“We, true angels, don’t. But he went native. For instance, he seems to be very protective over some books. Maybe we could find which one he praises the most. And burn it!” Gabriel’s purple eyes glimmered.

“Yes, it might work. But if he’s still a principality, couldn’t he just miracle it back to its former state?”

“Oh… That’s… Well…” the archangel hesitated, trying to think of a quick rebuttal. “How about we burn it all? The whole stupid bookshop?”

“Does he care about the place that much?”

“I honestly have no idea, but we could try it anyway, you know, just to see how he reacts. We know he will have to move, at least, which is already very annoying. It’s a start, don’t you think?” Gabriel wondered.

“That won’t be necessary,” Michael interrupted them. “Aziraphale is currently paying the due price for his treason. And the best part is, he doesn’t even know we’re involved.”

“What are you talking about, Michael?”

“While you were discussing for days, Uriel and I took action and fomented a plan to destroy him, only not physically.”

“What? What have you done?” Sandalphon raised his voice, very unpleasant.

“We made Aziraphale break up with his boyfriend,” Uriel replied.

“Boyfriend?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What boyfriend?” Sandalphon complemented.

_Lord, it pains me to admit Beelzebub was right, but angels are indeed dumb_, Uriel thought with a long sigh. “The demon Crowley. They’ve been consorting for millennia, plotting against Heaven and Hell. Since they only have one another, we managed to keep them apart. They’re completely isolated now.”

“And how do you know Aziraphale’s suffering?”

“Lord give me strength. He lost someone he loves. We don’t possess human feelings, but he does. And when a human is hurt by someone they love, their heart gets broken. It’s another form of suffering. And I dare say it’s such a pain worse than any physical torture.”

“I hardly believe that. What do you think, Gabriel?”

“I guess-- Uriel has a point, Sandalphon. If Aziraphale’s in pain, then I believe our… retribution is properly executed. For now, at least. Just make sure he keeps suffering for all eternity, until our war against them comes. Dismissed,” and Gabriel left the office.

“To think that an angel is consorting with a demon… Such outrage! Does he know no shame?” the other archangel uttered with a disgusted voice, following him. Uriel and Michael looked at each other and sighed in disapproval.

\---

Without noticing, the sun was nearly gone in Tadfield. Crowley and Anathema kept talking about many things, related to Aziraphale or not. She took the opportunity and asked many secrets lain behind the creation. She’s a witch, after all. The irony was, Crowley knew a thing or two about how the world was created and how Heaven and Hell shaped life on Earth, but he was really unaware of basic concepts, such as Biology, Literature and Science in general. Truth be told, he was only interested in things that caught his attention. In that matter, Anathema seemed to educate him more than the other way around. She suddenly felt very smart and superior before the supernatural, and also wondered how those two prevented the apocalypse instead of triggering it. It had to be luck.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me, though?” Crowley changed the subject.

“He’s an angel, isn’t he? I’m certain he will.”

“Well then, book girl. Our conversation has been really pleasant, but I’m afraid I have an angel to apologize to. I could certainly pay you another visit in case you feel interested, which I hardly think you are. Anyway, I can’t thank you enough. If you need any miracle in your life, you now have my number. I promise it’ll be a good deal, considering it comes from a demon,” he smirked with an ironic smile.

“Oh, I’m certainly fine. I’m done with supernatural beings around me. Right, it’s been very nice talking to you. Now, go get that angel.”

“Ahem, you don’t need to put that way, it sounds… vicious.”

“Maybe it’s precisely what you both need.”

“Yeah… Right. See you around, book girl,” Crowley waved his hand and walked away after crossing the fence wooden exit.

He got in the Bentley and turned the radio on. As he was leaving Tadfield and getting back to London, people could hear the loud, yet muffed music that came from the demonic car.

_Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time_

_I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah_

_And floating around in ecstasy_

_So don't stop me now, don't stop me_

_'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time_

Crowley was exhaling such genuine happiness as he hasn’t done for a very long time.

\---

“Oh, enough of this,” the angel’s eyes were heavy and tired of sobbing, just like his entire body. Aziraphale was growing physically incapable of mourning his loss any longer. The empty bottles all over the floor were also a reason to annoy him. After all, he didn’t want to waste the wine with the demon. He then decided to sober up, wash his face, straighten his tartan bow tie and see the world outside his bookshop. Oh, and of course, have a decent diner.

“So what if he doesn’t like me anymore? I don’t need him. Wherever he went off to, I don’t care. I’ve spent the whole 14th century without him because he was just… sleeping. A whole century wasted on sleeping, for crying out loud! He could have left me a note, though. It wouldn’t hurt. It’s only polite, considering everything we’ve been through,” Aziraphale murmured as he walked down the street, fiddling with his fingers.

The angel noticed he was in the middle of a park which he rarely visited. However, he did remember a very dear moment to him when he saw a certain bench. It was around 1889, if he recalled correctly. There was a man sitting there, silently weeping with a distant gaze.

Aziraphale sat at his side, always composed. He was feeling very awkward, though, and couldn’t find the proper words to comfort the man at first, so he just offered a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” the man said, accepting the offer. “Hard to find kindness when you’re in my shoes,” he smiled afterwards.

“Oh. In this case, I’m glad you found it. I’m always willing to spread compassion, no matter what kind of man is before me.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t if you knew who I am.”

“Nonsense. Every man deserves compassion and kindness. And love.”

“Even though I did, I wouldn’t have it. The person I love doesn’t feel the same, no matter how hard I try to show how devoted I am.”

The man noticed Aziraphale was fiddling with a pendant. Much to his surprise, he recognized the carving, yet he didn’t dare reveal he was familiar with it. Instead, he just uttered:

“Such a beautiful ornament you carry.”

“Oh, this? I’m actually very proud of it. It’s from Wilde’s first editions. Don’t you find his work simply brilliant?”

“Unquestionably,” the man smiled. “Yet, society doesn’t understand him. He was not meant to be born in this century. Neither was I.”

“I’m sure you’re exactly where you supposed to be. Everyone has a role in this world, you just haven’t found yours yet. I’ll be rooting for you, mister…”

“Ross. But you may call me Robbie.”

“I’ll be rooting for you, Robbie. Perhaps, one day, the person you love will notice how beautiful and powerful your love might be,” the angel concluded, suddenly picturing Crowley’s face in his mind.

Back to the present, Aziraphale was sitting at the same bench, recalling this event. _Oh, if only you could see me now, Robbie_, he thought, crestfallen. The angel then stood up and headed to a new Mexican restaurant that has just been inaugurated. The most magnificent thing about globalization for Aziraphale was the fact that he could try food from all over the world without leaving London.

\---

Crowley decided to stop by his apartment first. He really wanted to be at his best when confessing everything he was feeling toward Aziraphale. He also wanted to give him a bottle of champagne, mostly because, this time, the demon desired to make his dream come true, even without sunflowers. Fate didn’t matter anymore, as long as it provided him the love of his life.

He straightened his hair with a hair brush, and then sprayed cologne all over his neck and wrists. Crowley knew the angel cared about those things, after all, he was always impeccable. A little miracle made his clothes look even sharper than usual. He was very confident as he stared at himself in the mirror.

“Alright, Crowley. That’s it. Go get your angel,” he took a deep breath.

However, before leaving the place, he felt a sudden urge to check his voicemail box. It might have some important callings, i.e., Aziraphale’s. He approached the old-fashioned machine carefully and pushed the button, holding the bottle firmly.

“Mr. Crowley, this is Ms. Atwood from your insurance com--”

“Delete.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Crowley. Regarding your new ID card--”

“Delete.”

“Are you tired of dysfunctional vacuum clean--”

“Delete.”

Crowley was about to leave when the last record played.

“Crowley? Is that you? Oh… Of course not. This is your voicemail, isn’t it? You never answer your phone, especially when it’s me. But you’re leaving, aren’t you? Good. Then leave. Go away forever. I-- I don’t care. I don’t need you. Never did. My life will be so much better without you to tempt me from now on. No more evil deeds. No more demons. Only books. That’s all I need. Oh, and just for you to know, I’d never join your side. There’s no such thing as ‘our side’. And I never want to see or talk to you ever again!”

_Beep_.

The demon felt like a thousand razors shred his heart. Aziraphale confirmed what Crowley feared the most. He was indeed a bad influence, unworthy of being friends with an angel. He was indeed _unforgiveable_. He ruined everything.

Now he had no other choice. He _ought_ to leave.

\---

Crowley only packed the Mona Lisa’s cartoon. It was the only material object that he held dearly besides the Bentley. He wouldn’t miss the apartment, it was just a place for him to return when there was nothing else to do on the outside world. He had no idea where to go next, though. He loved Earth and there weren’t any reasons to leave the planet this time. Maybe Europe, or Oceania. Definitely not America.

He drove the Bentley one last time around London in hopes of receiving a divine insight. Or at least, to engrave the city in his memory.

_How can I go on from day to day?_

_Who can make me strong in every way?_

_Where can I be safe, where can I belong_

_In this great big world of sadness?_

_How can I forget_

_Those beautiful dreams that we shared?_

_They're lost and they're nowhere to be found_

_How can I go on?_

His faith was compensated. He has never been a good driver, and in this particular moment, his mind was miles away from the road. For this very reason, he hit a person. More accurately, a principality. Whether it was just a coincidence or some divine intervention, no one could ever tell. That happened on the street which surrounded Berkeley Square. It is also valid to point that there was nearly any traffic whatsoever, and since it was around 11 o’clock, most people were in the safety of their homes.

“Oh, shit! Not again,” the demon moaned, getting out of the Bentley. He was already helping the man to get up when he noticed his identity. “Aziraphale? What in the Heavens?”

“C-Crowley? You-- You nearly discorporated me!”

“I’m-- I’m so sorry, I was distracted. Did you break anything? Do you need me to miracle you or something?”

“No, I’m fine!” the angel finally stood up and cleaned his coat, extremely annoyed. “What are you doing here? I thought you had left London.”

“I… I was going to,” the demon justified. After a brief moment in silence, he continued. “Uh… Sorry for showing up in front of you. I know you don’t want to see me anymore. It was just an accident.”

“I-- I’ve never said that,” the angel rebutted instantly.

“Uh… Yeah, you did. You literally did that when you left that voicemail.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. You called me and said you didn’t want to see or talk to me ever again. I’m not judging, I understand and respect your decision. I’d do the same in your shoes. Don’t worry, I’m really leaving London for good, so you don’t have to worry about bumping into this rubbish of a demon.”

“Crowley, I really have no memory of calling you-- Oh. Oh, wait,” Aziraphale’s mind snapped. “I may have been drunk when I said that. Nonetheless, I don’t remember calling you. I’m so sorry, I’m feeling very embarrassed right now,” the angel looked away, clenching his hands and hiding his blushing cheeks.

“Well… Alcohol is just an easier way for people to speak up their minds, isn’t it?”

“I’m not so sure. I didn’t mean that,” the angel cried. There were million questions wandering his mind, and since no response was said, he just picked one and hoped for the best. “Why didn’t you come to our picnic?” he shouted, heartbroken.

“I… I forgot it. Sorry ‘bout that,” at that point, it was even harder for Crowley to leave, mostly because those words gave him hope. Little did he know the same was coming to pass on the other side.

“Oh…” the angel looked way. “So you are leaving?” he asked in the hopes of not hearing the answer. He also wanted to know why Crowley hadn’t told him he was leaving, but that part was still very hard to process.

“Yup. Don’t know where yet, I just know I’m done with London. Gonna figure it out on my way, who knows? Something tells me Alpha Centauri is absolutely breathtaking for this time of year,” the demon replied ironically, using caustic humor to hide his sorrow.

“Oh… I-I see. Will you ever come back?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Oh, angel. I wouldn’t say never, but don’t expect to see this beautiful face for the next thousand years,” he looked away and crossed his arms, his body leaned over the Bentley’s dented bonnet due to the previous accident.

Aziraphale couldn’t reply because he was too busy trying to understand why his heart was aching and why all the proper words have suddenly disappeared. In fact, the only body reaction that was still functioning was his impulse to desperately hug Crowley and ask him to stay. That is, implying that Aziraphale was not a rational being, which was not the case. For this very reason, all he did was ignore his soreness and act like a gentleman.

“Well then, in that case-- I believe this is a goodbye. Farewell, Crowley. Have a blissful life,” the angel looked way, changing the tone of his voice. He had a bit of pride to protect, after all. “Right. Tickety-boo,” he told himself while fiddling with his fingers.

Since no answer came, Aziraphale hesitated twice, then turned and walked away a few steps towards the pavement. He didn’t want to think about losing the love of his life, so he used all his mighty strength to forget how much he was in love with that demon, at least until he could arrive at his bookshop and have a decent and private breakdown all over again.

One could assume Crowley was fine with the situation. He wasn’t. He only seemed fine. The truth was, he was as heartbroken as Aziraphale. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Rather, he couldn’t say it because he was barely holding the urge to burst into tears.

“Goodbye, angel,” he whispered, straightening his body and reaching out for the Bentley’s door.

Those were muffled words, nearly inaudible, but Aziraphale heard them. Whether it was his natural sense of empathy or the fact that they’ve known each other for 6,000 years, the angel was able to perceive the demon’s broken voice and heart. The demon didn’t want to leave, he _ought_ to. Aziraphale had to act quickly. Anything would do it, even the most irrational, desperate course of action.

“Crowley, wait!” the angel shouted. “Before you leave for good, I need to tell you something. I wasn’t entirely honest with you. I’ve been… concealing information from you for a very long time. And I feel it’s the last opportunity to share it.”

_What the hell do I have to lose at this point? I’m losing it all the moment he gets in that blasted car_, Aziraphale thought. His anxiety was nearly stronger than his love for food. His hands were trembling, all cold and sweating, and the attempt of holding them together revealed itself to be a useless effort.

“What is it?”

“I…” the angel hesitated. “As an angel… I… Well, you see… It’s only natural that I--”

“I don’t have all night, angel!” the demon was leaning one arm over the Bentley’s door while his right foot was ready to get in the car. The fastest they ended up their conversation, the less difficult it would be for him to leave the love of his life.

“I-I… Hold on, I’m hyperventilating here… This is so hard…”

“Chop-chop!”

“I…”

“Hurry up!”

“You see, I…”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’m quite in love with you!” Aziraphale cried at last, his whole body was shaking and his heart was about to burst.

Crowley’s mouth immediately went wide open but the words wouldn’t come out. An awkward silence grew between them, until the demon could finally gather enough breath to reply, even though very poorly.

“W-W-What was that? What did you just say?”

“I’m quite in love with you. For a very long time,” the second turn was surprisingly easier to say, although he was still afraid of the response.

“A-A-Are you sure about that?” Crowley left the Bentley and headed towards Aziraphale very slowly. He wasn’t certain about what to do with that information yet, but something was pulling him, some mysterious force in action.

“What kind of question is this? Of course I am!” the angel took offense on the query, but kept elaborating his thought. “I’m a creature of love, it’s only natural for me to love you as well. Hmm, maybe not as much as I should, but I’ve never chosen the intensity. It just sort of happened as we interacted over the millennia. Look, it’s not my fault. You’re always spoiling me with all these miracles and diners and, and--”

Aziraphale didn’t notice Crowley was getting closer and closer as he spoke. The angel only froze when he felt the demon’s hands holding his. They were indeed very cold and trembling, but it couldn’t be helped. Crowley might be misjudged by a warm being since he was a demon, however the truth was, he was as cold as the current weather. He only wished he could warm Aziraphale’s hands at that moment. On the bright side, he had a reason to stay.

“Angel. Shut it,” he replied tenderly. He approached even further, inch by inch, until they touched foreheads. Then, the demon guided the angel’s hand around his waist carefully, letting them rest. Lastly, he slid his head over Aziraphale’s side, finally hugging him dearly.

Crowley felt like holding his entire world around his arms. He wasn’t exaggerating. Meanwhile, Aziraphale, a being designed to protect, by the very first time, felt protected. His heart was still pounding like an engine at full speed. A brief moment of silence surrounded then, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward this time. It was just quiet as they enjoyed the experience of hugging each other by the first time.

“It’s mutual. Obviously,” the demon whispered, finally breaking the silence and still holding his world around his arms.

“R-Really?” the angel hesitated with a smile, panting a little bit. He could barely breathe ever since the demon hugged him. It was a complete relief.

“You have no idea,” the demon replied.

Crowley wasn’t quite sure about the exact date, but he knew he has fallen in love with Aziraphale between the seventh day of creation and around 41 BC, probably. The main reason for this gap is the fact that were a few hundreds of years of denial in the process, but the circumstance that he has never meant to be a demon – not to mention how bad he was at it – helped him overcome the struggle. And, of course, the angel was lovely. Actually, it would be rather surprising if he hasn’t fallen in love at all.

On the other hand, Aziraphale took even longer to realize how deeply in love he was with Crowley. Unlike the demon, the angel felt conflicted about having a double life. He was entirely alone on Earth, except when Crowley was around. Without noticing, he was… _fraternizing _with him. And _enjoying_ it. He was not wrong when he said it was Crowley’s fault, though. Every time the demon performed miracles only for him or saved him from deadly situations, all these little gestures made Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat. And, beat by beat, he fell. That happened precisely in 1941.

Of course, they both tried to deny the mutual feeling over the millennia. Crowley hated loving the angel, and Aziraphale has made the situation even harder since he was always eager to deny even a friendship. But that was a lie, a contradiction imprinted all over his heart eyes, silly smile and long sighs. Deep down, they knew. And in this particular situation, time hasn’t ceased the strength of this feeling. On the contrary, it only increased it.

“Guess I still go too fast for you, uh?” the demon said after releasing the angel from the hug, but not letting his hands go.

“Well… Sometimes you just have to break some traffic laws so you can get to the right place in time,” Aziraphale smiled, embarrassed. So _that_ was the reason why Crowley avoided physical contact. He remembered this line back in the 60’s and grew fearful ever since. The angel regretted he didn’t make things clearer. He was not ready back then. He was now.

“Oh, you’re so in trouble. Next time I get you a lift, I won’t accept even one single complaint,” the demon smiled sarcastically. Then, soon afterwards, his expression changed to concern. “This is all sweet and nice, but something is troubling me. I mean, don’t you regret it?”

“Regret it?” the angel inquired, confused.

“Yeah, I mean… Regret loving someone so… filthy… A demon, nevertheless. Don’t you regret loving… _me_?”

Aziraphale sighed and stared at Crowley with his tender, blue eyes.

“Let’s just put an end to this self-loathing, shall we? Listen…” Aziraphale clenched Crowley’s hands against his, holding them dearly. “Even though the sky falls and the seas dry, even though the lands crumble and the stars crash, even though the sun ceases flickering and darkness overcomes life… Even though the world ends again, I will _never_ regret loving you.”

The demon lost it.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_, he thought as the tears finally rolled from his dark glasses.

“Damn it, angel! Why are you like this?” he hugged him once more, tighter and quicker this time.

“There, there,” Aziraphale hold his head with the right hand and patted his back with his left, until he could calm down. Yet, they both knew it wasn’t enough.

It was when the angel unfolded his white wings and embraced the demon, a gesture very similar to the one that occurred by the first time they’ve ever talked. Although he was far more protected by the demon given their storyline, Aziraphale always felt the urge to protect Crowley, mostly from himself.

They took some time. After all, it was a 6,000 years long-waited hug. Angels and demons don’t exchange physical contact. In fact, they _think_ they don’t possess the concept of what we call human feelings, and that’s why they act so coldly before each other. But the truth is, they’re entirely capable of experiencing them. All they need to do to understand and experience them is observe. However, one side is too busy with their heavenly world of perfection and the other is busy with the bad feelings. They don’t actually pay attention to how powerful and strong positive feelings are, only how they can twist them.

It would be inaccurate to generalize, though. There were one angel and one demon that had embraced human feelings as they’ve grown native on Earth. Their names were Aziraphale and Crowley, respectively. And they’ve developed one of the noblest feelings in all creation: love.

Aziraphale was born a creature of love, which is very problematic already considering angels are warriors, not lovers. This is why he has never fit and was sent on duty. On Earth, he could love all the living beings, no matter how cruel nature turned out to be. As the time passed, he also developed love for inanimate substance, that is, food. And later, he learned the pleasure provided by books. Lastly, he developed love for the only being an angel could not fraternize with: a demon.

On the other hand, Crowley was born with the ability of empathy. And the last thing a demon stands for is empathy. This unique characteristic made Crowley question what good and evil really meant. In fact, he has never had malice in his heart, not like the other demons. He was just genuinely naïve and curious, which later led to the result of sauntering vaguely downwards. He hated his lot and never fit as well, deciding he would be his own demon across his eternal existence. Little did he know that love has also struck him. He was soft towards children and never quite enjoyed tempting humans. For this very reason, his ways to create diabolic schemes were completely unusual. The way he treats his houseplants has also been established as a façade. Not long ago, he discovered the love for his Bentley. But there were two elements he has loved since his first steps on the planet. These would be alcohol and, obviously, Aziraphale.

In other words, they’ve found love on Earth and would even fight the Great Plan – not the same as the Ineffable Plan – in order to protect it. They didn’t care if their lots were against it anymore, they weren’t scared of them. Their love was beautiful, unique, and powerful. Lastly, but not less important, it was mutual.

Crowley finally stared at Aziraphale, still holding his hands.

“Would you forgive me?”

“As long as you forgive _me_.”

“You’re an angel, you don’t need forgiveness. Oh, wait. You do. What about Heaven?”

“What about them?”

“What do you mean? Haven’t they offered you forgiveness in exchange of never… fraternizing with me ever again?”

“Crowley, you’re not making any sense,” the angel stared at the demon, confused.

“Oh, those bastards…” he mumbled. “Angel, we have tons of things to talk about. Would you mind if I come to your place? It’s really important.”

“That-- That would be mostly magnificent.”

“Good. Come on, then. I’ll get you a lift.”

Aziraphale folded his wings back and got in the car, but not before performing a miracle to heal its bonnet. The radio was still on.

_You will remember when this is blown over_

_And everything’s all by the way_

_When I grow older_

_ I will be there at your side to remind you_

_How I still love you_

_I still love you_

The angel gazed at the demon, tenderly as usual. Yet, it was quite different from every single previous time. It wasn’t unspoken anymore. They’ve loved each other.

\---

“I can’t believe Michael used such a dirty trick to deceive us.”

“Pisses me off, you know? They are doing terrible things and remain up there. Meanwhile, all it took for me to… saunter vaguely downwards was make questions. I can’t see how this is divine justice. Lucky me I’m free to do it now.”

“I still feel uncomfortable about questioning the Almighty, though. It was precisely the ineffable plan that gave us the advantage needed to prevent the war. Well, that’s not the point. The point is, your lot did the same thing, which means they were working together. They were trying to separate us. How did they know our bond was also our weakness?”

“Oh, angel. I think it’s always been pretty much obvious, even to us. It was just… unspoken. Plus, they only took this long to notice because they weren’t paying any attention to us anyway,” Crowley was sitting on the arm of the opposite sofa, his back bent and his hands holding a glass of that certain champagne.

“Well… I suppose so,” Aziraphale sipped the beverage after a pause. “I must wonder, though… What changes now? I mean, between you and me?”

Crowley sighed heavily. He was wondering the same while they headed to the bookshop and the Bentley kept playing romantic Queen songs. The demon slithered over the sofa, leaving the glass on the little table between them, and sat on the opposite one, at Aziraphale’s side. He looked at the angel lovingly and sighed once more, his left arm leaned back on the top of the sofa and, consequently, his hand very close to the angel’s face. He’d perform a million deeds, either good or bad ones, only to caress him tenderly.

“To be honest, angel, I have no idea. Guess we’ve got to figure out together.”

“Right…” he chuckled, and then decided to discuss one last matter. “So the reason you… Didn’t show up to our picnic was due to their lies? Or is there indeed another reason you haven’t told me yet?”

“Oh, that… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. But Michael told me Heaven was willing to accept you back. Let’s just be honest here, Aziraphale. I’d never had a chance, I’m a demon. You’d choose them without thinking twice.”

“I’m offended, Crowley. Perhaps I’d have given a thought in the past, but I’d never choose Heaven over you after everything we’ve been through together. I know I’ve treated you badly, that’s why I’m willing to make it up to you. It’s just-- In fact, I was in denial I’ve fallen in love with you. Not to mention that I’d never expect to be mutual.”

“You’re kidding, right? You are _lovely_, obviously it would be mutual.”

The angel didn’t reply, but the response was on his blushed cheeks. He was used to gazing at Crowley over the millennia, but he was definitely not used to compliments, especially from the person he loved the most.

On the other hand, Crowley was wondering if Aziraphale wished to be alone. The demon did want to spend the rest of the night by his side, but he had no idea if his intention matched the angel’s. After all, Aziraphale was simply like that. He needed his personal space now and then, which was perfectly fine. There were so many things they needed to discuss from that moment on, but the words failed them due to embarrassment and inexperience.

“It’s late, isn’t it? You might wish to be alone now. You know, take some rest.”

“N-Not at all,” Aziraphale replied immediately. “Besides, where are going to stay? Isn’t your apartment unavailable since you’ve decided to leave London?”

“Oh, I… I forgot about that. You’re right. Damn _me_.”

“You-- You can stay here if you like.”

Crowley paralyzed. It was nearly the very same line he uttered when Aziraphale’s bookshop caught fire and was burned to the ground. In the end, they spent the night at the demon’s place, planning the swap trick. He was positively willing to share his place with the angel, but he never thought it would be mutual someday.

“W-Wouldn’t you get tired of me? I know you need your space and stuff. Besides, there’s only one room.”

“Nonsense! We’re still two separate entities, we don’t have to be side by side all the time. Also, the bookshop has plenty of space. In case the need of being alone emerges, I’ll be around my books. And you can stay at the room upstairs. I don’t use it anyway. Oh, and Crowley! One last thing,” the angel looked down, embarrassed, as he still fiddled with the glass of champagne. “This… This may be temporary as well. If-- If we come to the conclusion that this is not working, you can simply move. I won’t be saddened, I promise. Just give me your word that you will definitely tell me if you’re not comfortable with my presence, is that alright?”

“Only if you promise me the same.”

“That’s a deal,” Aziraphale smiled.

“Look at you now, all fancy making deals with the devil.”

“Funny thing, isn’t it? But I’m quite sure it’s precisely the other way around, if you ask me. The pact favors the angel all the way up.”

“We’ll see about that,” the demon smiled with a delightful expression on his face. Then, he tipped his head and raised an eyebrow. “Angel. May I lay my head on your shoulder?”

“W-Well… I-I-I suppose you may,” his cheeks were burning and his heart was pounding louder than a thousand drums.

The demon straightened his body and came closer, doing as he said. Once again he smelled Aziraphale’s cologne, only this time it felt more intimate, like he never felt before. He certainly knew what the angel smelled like, yet it was the first time he could appreciate it truly, without the fear of being caught for a sin he was committing inside his own mind.

Their hands were close, and for a brief moment, Crowley thought of holding Aziraphale’s just like he did in his dream. But he wouldn’t dare, he was too afraid of hushing their new dynamics and ruining their progress. That gesture was enough for him.

But the angel knew the demon’s desires. And there was nothing left to fear. Aziraphale’s hand moved slowly closer to him, until his pinky, the one with the ring, interlaced with Crowley’s. That moment was even better than a dream. It wasn’t perfect; there wasn’t a beautiful sunset and a breathtaking landscape, there wasn’t food to please them. In addition, they weren’t entirely sure about their boundaries, their feelings and their maturity to deal with their relationship. Yet, for this very reason, it felt real. Reality is based on imperfection.

They remained that way for a long time. Crowley chose not to sleep since he wanted to spend a quality time by Aziraphale’s side. They were incredibly happy. The night was quite pleasant as they talked about their solo adventures and their hands kept interlaced. Nothing else mattered.

\---

The following narration has as the main subject the so-called “firsts”. Since angels and demons are immortals, time is perceived differently by them. Therefore, it would be too extensive and exhausting to narrate all Aziraphale and Crowley’s first experiences without fast-forwarding the irrelevant points of their chronology. It’s also important to state that not all firsts will be narrated, since they are endless and the future is not yours to be known.

\---

The story will be resumed at the next evening, when they were still getting used to each other’s presences. Aziraphale opened the bookshop as usual, but no costumer lasted more than three minutes inside the establishment. For some reason, every single one of them started feeling very sick, no matter how healthy their lives might be. Aziraphale knew it was devil’s work in action, but Crowley never admitted it. Instead, he just smirked as he laid the newspaper down. He always knew how to please his angel, after all.

It turns out that all that evil backfired. One of the costumers was in fact a powerful occultist. She had been looking for a specific book in Aziraphale’s place for a very long time and, fate or not, it was the second time in a week she was affected by that sudden evil energy. She suspected at first, but now she was certain – and very angry. She cast a terrible curse upon the bookshop, making everyone under that roof have dreadful nightmares that would prevent the cursed ones to wake up, no matter how loud they screamed. Of course, little did she know that Aziraphale hasn’t slept for centuries. Truth be told, he couldn’t recall the last time he had tried sleeping – since the time he spent on the sofa didn’t count. However, he wasn’t the only one living in the bookshop now. And that other being loved sleeping.

It was difficult for them to say goodnight at first, but Aziraphale noticed the demon’s tired eyes behind the dark glasses. After a little insistence, Crowley finally agreed to go upstairs and have some rest. At least, he would feel those heavenly sheets again. And the angel would be there as soon as he woke up.

He lay down and closed his eyes, thinking of Aziraphale downstairs, which made his cheeks blush with a smile. He was completely unaware of what was waiting for him that night. It didn’t take too long. The dreamscape was familiar. There he was, gazing at the horizon, the sunflower field under his feet, and his angel by his side. Everything seemed perfect again, until the sun touched the ground. Instead of disappearing, it started setting fire on the field. Little by little, the sunflowers burned down, a sea of fire swallowing everything it touched. When the demon turned and looked at Aziraphale, he was gone. Suddenly, Crowley caught himself in the bookshop.

He looked around, calling his angel. The familiar scenario was killing him in agony. The same feeling was about to struck him all over again. _No, not this again_, he thought, desiring from the bottom of his heart that he was wrong. Random books ignited from the several shelves. In an instant, all the room was in flames. He kept screaming for Aziraphale’s name, but deep down, Crowley knew the fire has destroyed him. They weren’t ordinary flames, after all. The demon recognized their ominous origin; they were from Hell, the very same flames that tried to destroy his angel when they swapped bodies. His lot had come to collect, fueled by vengeance and rage. Crowley had lost the love of his life, and this time, it was for real.

_…Crowley… Wake up…_

_Crowley!_

Aziraphale tried to shake the demon’s body, but it didn’t work. Not even smooth pats on his face were effective. The demon was sweating bullets and crying out for his name incessantly. The angel then decided to perform a miracle. Crowley opened his eyes.

“Good Lord, you’re finally up. I was dead worried--”

Aziraphale was interrupted by a sudden hug. He could swear he heard Crowley sob.

“It’s… It’s alright, my dear. There, there. It was just a nightmare. It’s all over now,” he held the demon’s head with such tenderness as if he were holding the most delicate and precious jewel in all existence.

Crowley hugged the angel even tighter. After a brief moment in silence, he responded with certain effort, mostly emotional in this case, still hiding his face with the hug.

“I can’t stand losing you again”, he mumbled.

“Why, don’t be silly. When have you ever lost me?”

“You weren’t there. I thought you were dead.”

“What are you talking about, my dear? You’re not making any sense.”

“I was in the bookshop when it burned down. I thought someone came and killed you with Hellfire. And then those stupid, crooked angels tried to do the same. It… It haunts me.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. The first time was just a misunderstanding, and the second one was for me as dangerous as it was for you with all that holy water. They won’t try that again, we’ve tricked them. No fire will ever catch me, I promise.”

Crowley let go off the hug and stared at Aziraphale. He couldn’t hide his worried expression with the dark glasses since they were lying on the nightstand. The demon was still clearly under unease and uncertainty.

“What if I can’t sleep anymore? It was one of the few things I loved the most…” he cried, looking away.

“What? No! You have an angel to protect you now! You’ll definitely have a beautiful dream with the things you love the most, you have my word.”

“W-Will you protect me? I’m a demon, after all… It doesn’t sound right…”

“True. But I can… Well… I could watch you as you sleep. Not-- Not in a weird way, of course. I could be around, read a book while you sleep. And if another nightmare dares haunt you, it will have to pass through me first.”

Crowley felt a sudden blow struck his heart. It reminded him the many reasons why he loved Aziraphale so much since the beginning of everything. He had such a capacity for goodness, and his naivety made him incredibly lovely. But he also knew how to use it for his own advantage. He has done this for millennia, with those heart eyes and silly smile. Crowley knew he was being used, yet he allowed those emotional manipulations. However, two could play that game. He was a demon, after all, and experience taught him how to benefit as well.

“So are you saying you’re going to sleep with me?” he raised an eyebrow and smirked with a bit of slyness.

“W-W-- N-N-Not like that,” Aziraphale stunned. “I-I-I mean, I don’t need sleeping. Not a fan, really. What I meant is I could keep you company in the same room, th-that’s all.”

“Alright. But I’d feel more secure if you lay by my side, you know? If you sit on a chair, it may give me the feeling of being creepily watched, that won’t be good.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sighed. He knew the demon was up to something and he fell for it like a silly duck right into the trap.

“Fine. But I will leave the lampshade on. I’ll be reading all night, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley nodded, approving their agreement. Then he turned and snuggled under the blanket. The angel miracled his clothes, turning them into soft tartan pajamas. There was a book in the nightstand drawer. _Pride and Prejudice. Well, I haven’t read this one yet_.

Aziraphale sat on the bed. It was large enough to fit two people, and there were plenty fluffy pillows. He leaned his back on the headboard and opened his book. Crowley was already gone into a deep slumber.

As the angel reached the middle of the story, – valid to mention, very troubled with the similarities between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth duo and his relationship with Crowley – he felt a sudden urge to look at the demon.

Crowley had his back on the angel, and his silhouette was calmly going up and down as he breathed. Apparently, he was having sweet dreams. _Mission accomplished_, he pondered. Aziraphale thought of leaving him, but in fact, he didn’t want to. If this was about to become a daily procedure, he was more than pleased to comply.

This was the first time they’ve shared a bed, but not the first they’ve slept together, though. It would take several weeks for the angel to be comfortable with the idea of sleeping by the demon’s side. It didn’t matter. Crowley has been patient for 6,000 years, he wouldn’t rush things now. In addition, the curse only worked once, yet he was still haunted by the idea of losing Aziraphale to fire. His fear was authentic enough to be perceived by the angel. For this very reason, they kept their agreement and not even once any of them ever suggested canceling it.

Gradually, Aziraphale succumbed to the idea of sleeping. After all, he wanted to share all kinds of experience with Crowley. The first night he decided trying it, he was only able to nap for miserable twenty minutes. But the more he got used to that feeling and grew comfortable with it, the more he succeeded. His demon usually had six to nine hours of straight sleep, – that is, Crowley could sleep for a whole century if he wished so, but he desired to keep a regular human routine in order to enjoy their time together – and Aziraphale’s goal was stretch his circle until they were able to wake up at the same time. It took nearly a year, but he finally succeeded. When the demon opened his eyes and woke up that morning, he saw his angel, perfectly still and at peace, his hands interlaced, resting over his tummy. That was the first time Crowley saw Aziraphale sleep, and this picture would be forever engraved in his memory. He was indeed hopelessly smitten with the angel.

That day, they finally, literally, slept together by the very first time, although they were many steps behind to what is common knowledge concerning a regular relationship. After all, they haven’t even kissed yet. But that’s another first that will be told soon afterwards.

\---

It was Christmas Eve. Crowley and Aziraphale never celebrated it properly, mostly because they saw how humans treated their savior and how they turned his birthday into a commercial holiday. Yet, since Crowley had sought Anathema’s advice in order to settle things with his angel, she became quite curious about their relationship – that was an excuse she told herself instead of admitting she developed affection for them, in any case.

That’s why Anathema invited them to dine and spend a pleasant time at her cottage. Adam, Dog and the Them were also invited, as well as Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell. Before dinner, they exchanged gifts, and the demon and the angel were a bit out of tone about this habit. Aziraphale ended up giving books to everyone, while the demon forgot children can’t drink alcohol, that includes wine. On the other hand, they received several kind, yet odd gifts, such as a handmade sweater, new dark glasses, a magazine about occult forces and the supernatural, and a handshake.

Later, while the kids were sitting next to the pine tree hanging some ornaments handmade by them, the adults were sitting at the table, having a nice conversation about their new lives after the not-quite-apocalypse-day. Suddenly, Pepper approached them, resting her arms between Aziraphale and Crowley.

“I heard you’re boyfriends now. Is that true?”

The demon spat wine all over the table and the angel choked with grapes. Anathema smiled, holding a laugh as Newt gasped, while Mr. Shadwell looked at them with mistrust.

“That’s… That’s not something appropriate for a child to discuss, wouldn’t you agree?” Aziraphale cleaned his mouth with a handkerchief after recovering from the shocking question.

“I’m not a child,” she replied. “This is good, you know? You’re both defying the heteronormative standard. Keep it that way,” she turned and headed back to her friends.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked away, their faces burning in embarrassment.

“Children can be fierce, can’t they?” Anathema inquired with an artful smile. “Well, as I was saying, we’ve decided to burn Agnes’ book. No more prophecies to dictate my live and people around me. In any case, even without her prophecies, the future seems promising, wouldn’t you agree?” she gazed at Crowley and tipped her head. The demon looked away and scratched his nape awkwardly. He wouldn’t dare look at his angel, not when they were both embarrassed by a girl.

The turkey was finally ready. The kids joined them at the table. It was an extraordinary feast, just like Aziraphale always dreamed of. It was their first celebrated Christmas. The demon and the angel have always been quite lonesome, even between each other. It was hard for them to make human friends, mostly because they didn’t live long enough to consolidate a friendship. It was good, though, to finally change that, especially because they were doomed to die by Adam’s hands, and look at them now, sharing a pleasant night together, laughing and bonding. The embarrassment was long past gone, however they were not entirely safe yet.

After the dessert, a few minutes before midnight, they gathered together near the fireplace. When they were all distracted, Newt timidly raised the mistletoe over Anathema. She smiled and gave him a gentle peck. Madame Tracy was touched by their gesture and decided to do the same with Mr. Shadwell, who objected and uttered rude words, but soon went silent when the lady kissed his cheek.

“What are they doing?” Crowley whispered to Aziraphale.

“Oh, I believe it’s a Christmas tradition. Humans display affection, usually with a-a-a kiss, when underneath the mistletoe. It’s like a symbol of love, I believe,” the angel blushed.

“Hum, I see,” Crowley mumbled. He would definitely not try that with the angel.

“If any of you will make a move, then I’ll do it,” Pepper popped between them once more, this time with the mistletoe over their heads. The girl would be the death of them.

“Ngh! Li-Listen, kid. We-We don’t do that. Could you please leave us alone?” the demon disapproved her behavior, mostly because he was afraid of Aziraphale’s reaction. He feared that the angel felt forced to do things he didn’t want to, and that was the last thing the demon desired for their relationship. In fact, he was completely right, as Aziraphale did seem uncomfortable with the whole situation. “Look, angel,” Crowley whispered. “Y-You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel like it, alright? I’d never put you under pressure. You make the rules, I’ll follow. Is that alright for you?”

“Perfectly fine. Thank you,” he replied with a tender, relieved smile.

That would do it. Aziraphale’s smile felt like a relief as well. If his angel was comfortable, then all was good. The kids were sent home, it was a miracle already that they were allowed to stay up until that hour. They wished the adults Merry Christmas and rode their bicycles to their respective houses.

Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell also grew tired and headed home. They were living in Tadfield now, for some reason they couldn’t quite tell. Finally, the angel and the demon decided to leave Newt and Anathema alone and come back to London. They thanked them endlessly, especially Aziraphale. He was the first to begin dining and the last to finish it.

“So you really caught your angel, didn’t you?” Anathema whispered to Crowley before he left the cottage.

“Thank you for taking that horseshoe off your entrance, lady,” he smirked and turned away, reaching Aziraphale, who was waiting for him to get in the Bentley.

The way home was quite pleasant. The radio was playing Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto in D major, op. 35, as requested by Aziraphale.

_Every drop of rain that falls in Sahara Desert says it all_

_It’s a miracle_

_All God’s creations great and small, the Golden Gate and the Taj Mahal,_

_That’s a miracle_

They were silent, yet they were completely comfortable with it. The angel was looking at the landscape and, surprisingly, the demon was driving smoothly, without breaking any traffic laws. Perhaps it was a Christmas miracle, after all.

When Crowley was already driving across the city, he stopped at the intersection near the bookshop and waited for the traffic light. That was when Aziraphale decided to tell him what he was planning all night long.

“Crowley,” he began. “I know I haven’t given you any gifts tonight, but it would be a mistake to assume I don’t have anything for you. I do.”

“W-What was that?” he looked at the angel, surprised.

“I have a gift for you. A Christmas gift.”

“R-Really? You didn’t have to go to all the trouble-- ”

“Nonsense. It wasn’t troublesome at all. Listen, I didn’t give it to you because, well… I’d rather do it when we were alone. I hid it in the Bentley, although I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it,” the angel pulled the package from under the seat. It had a tartan pattern and a light blue ribbon. “Here it is. Merry Christmas.”

Aziraphale handed the gift to Crowley, who was actually very stunned. The demon scratched his chin and looked at the traffic light once more.

“To be honest, I also have something for you…” he said casually.

“You do?”

“Y-Yeah… I was gonna give it to you at _home_, but since you were faster than me, I guess that’s fine. Here’s yours,” he pulled the package from the glove compartment.

_Home_, Aziraphale thought. They were really living together. The traffic light went green and, in an instant, they were at the bookshop. They sat side by side on the sofa and the demon began unpacking his gift. It was a pair of leather gloves, very stylish and compatible with his edgy taste.

“Oh, angel. That is actually very fancy.”

“Well, I figured you struggle a lot during winter – for obvious reasons – so these gloves can keep your hands warm while you drive.”

“Thanks,” he smiled. In fact, he loved them, even though he didn’t put his feelings into the right words. “Now open yours.”

The angel did as he was told and opened the black package, a color very unusual for the occasion, yet it was his trademark.

“Chocolates?” Aziraphale got surprised.

“Y-Yeah. They’re from Switzerland, though. The best I could find there.”

“You went to Switzerland?”

“Nah, I have my ways. Anyway, that’s for that time, uh… When Gabriel was here and prevented me from handing them to you.”

“You remember--?”

“Yeah, that bastard, trying to take you away from me,” he mumbled.

Aziraphale smiled and sighed tenderly. He was also smitten with the demon.

“I’ve never thanked you for that. Thank you, Crowley. For everything.”

“No problem, angel,” he replied with a lovely expression.

They remained in silence for a brief moment, fiddling with their respective gifts. There was something unspoken between them, even though they were too embarrassed to talk about it. Yet, they knew they would end up having that conversation sooner or later.

“Sorry about what happen--”

“I was thinking about ton--”

They decided to break the silence at the same time, but ended up interrupting each other.

“So-Sorry,” the demon replied first. “Go ahead.”

“I... I was thinking about tonight, when that girl put the mistletoe over us… You may think I don’t want you to kiss me, but th-th-that’s not accurate. It was just… I couldn’t make it in front of all those people! I… I was not ready.”

“Ngh, ahm…” Crowley stuttered, trying to justify himself. With lots of effort, he finally found the words. “Angel, don’t worry. Haven’t we discussed this yet? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I… I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to do it.”

“That’s precisely the point. I do,” the angel looked away, hiding his blushed face.

“W-W-What was that?”

“Would you kiss me, Crowley?” Aziraphale found the courage to look at the demon’s eyes with determination, although his heart was pounding absurdly loud.

“If-If-If you agree to…”

“I do.”

_Oh, shit, I’m not ready for this_, the demon thought in panic. But he was willing to do it anyway because the angel’s will was his command.

“A-Alright. Right now?” he wished from the bottom of his heart that Aziraphale didn’t mean it.

In fact, the angel was also insecure. He regretted his words immensely soon afterwards. Who was he trying to deceive? He was definitely not ready for a kiss. But now it was too late to take them back. Crowley would be disappointed – or worse, heartbroken. Aziraphale nodded.

They faced each other, but their postures were extremely clumsy and anxious. The angel kept his face down, without realizing the demon couldn’t reach him that way.

“Angel…” he sighed. “You don’t seem fine with this. You sure you want that?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled and turned his beautiful blue eyes to the demon. “Perhaps we can find a middle ground? Let’s say… What would you think of a kiss on the cheek?”

“Perfect! Just what we need right now! Yup!” Crowley felt like the whole world was taken off his shoulders.

Aziraphale smiled once again and turned his face, still looking down, although not sad or apprehensive this time. He was just timid, nervously waiting for one of the most remarkable moments of his life. Crowley approached his head and, timidly sliding the tip of his nose on the angel’s face, touched Aziraphale’s cheek with his lips. It lasted the perfect amount of time.

Such an astonishing feeling. 6,000 years of repressed love and passion, exhaling from their souls and hitting their hearts like a train. Oh, how they wished to have all the answers instead of learning lesson by lesson how to love, although they would miss all this inexperience in the future.

They decided to go to bed soon afterwards in order to get more comfortable – and more intimate, at least the further they could, according to their boundaries. They were holding hands as they headed upstairs, and a quick miracle changed their clothes. By the first time, Aziraphale lay down on his side. Crowley did the same, which was also a first since he always slept with his back on the angel. They kept gazing at each other for a countless amount of time. The dim light from the lampshade was enough for them to recognize their respective features. Aziraphale felt like diving into Crowley’s yellow eyes, while Crowley felt like floating across Aziraphale’s heavenly blue eyes.

“May I cuddle your face?” the demon asked softly. They’ve never done that before.

The angel nodded without hesitation. Crowley’s hand slowly reached out for Aziraphale’s face, touching it caringly. Each finger cuddled a part of his angel’s face, but most of all, his thumb sometimes touched the edge of his lips. He wouldn’t be a demon without the habit of tempting, after all. And, of course, it worked.

“What would you say if I told you,” the angel inquired as he rested his hand over the demon’s, “that I’m willing to try that kiss again?”

“Well, I’d say… The time is quite appropriate to give another shot.”

Aziraphale smiled and led his own hand to Crowley’s face by the first time. It was really soft and surprisingly warm. They were finally holding each other’s heads as they came closer. They closed their eyes, not because they were anxious or ashamed, but mostly because it’s like people always say: some things are meant to be felt, not seen.

Their lips touched smoothly for a brief moment. It felt incredibly soft – and overwhelming. In addition, their vessels were incredible tough to bear such a strong emotion flowing through their hearts. They concluded the first kiss, and went for another, and another. When the third one ended, Crowley chuckled and kissed all Aziraphale’s face as they laughed with that gesture. Then, the demon sighed and gazed at the angel one last time.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, my dear.”

They snuggled into each other’s bodies and remained that way as they slept. They had the most pleasant night of their lives.

\---

This story will end at St. James’s Park. It may sound an ordinary date, but it wasn’t. It all happened on a Sunday morning when Crowley and Aziraphale went out for a picnic. They’ve had plenty of them after their little misunderstanding, as the demon promised he would never leave his angel waiting ever again. Actually, it was quite hard for that to happen since they were living together and their dates were planned mutually. Besides, there were no more envy eyes prying their lovely relationship. Or, at least, it was what they thought.

They were sitting over a tartan tablecloth, enjoying delightful snacks and a fine wine as they watched the landscape and appreciated each other’s company. They were not ashamed of displaying their love anymore. They were actually pretty tired of hiding it for the millennia. Aziraphale snuggled into Crowley’s arms, and rested his head on the demon’s shoulder. On the other hand, Crowley wrapped the angel around his arms and legs. They were officially a couple.

However, from a safe distance, on a bench, there were another angel and another demon watching them, sitting side by side.

“It’s so disgusting,” Beelzebub groaned with a buzzing voice.

“I can’t believe Aziraphale is on a higher rank than me. Look at how far down he sank, consorting-- _dating_ a demon,” Gabriel crossed his arms.

“Crowley was such a prodigy. He did so many bad deeds, why has he lowered himself this much, to the point of getting all dirty with an angel?” he rolled his eyes.

“What are you talking about? It’s clearly the demon who is getting the angel all dirty.”

“You wish. You angels are all stupid. Besides, it was not even your plan to break their relationship, after all. It was Michael’s.”

“And I’m telling you, if I was the one behind the plan, it would have succeed. Do I need to remind you that you failed as well? You also had a part in this disaster.”

“As if you could elaborate a plan with this stupid brain of yours.”

Beelzebub and Gabriel kept arguing about the integrity of their respective former employees and their superiority as they felt Crowley and Aziraphale’s affection spread all over the park, turning people’s hearts warmer that day.

However, that’s another story for another time, if it will be ever told at all. We’ve learned that there are plans that can’t be put into words, no matter how hard beings try to change that. After all, my plan is… _ineffable_.

\---

_Dining at the Ritz, we’ll meet at nine precisely _

_(one two three four five six seven eight nine o’clock)_

_I will pay the bill, you taste the wine_

_Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely_

_Just take me back to yours that will be fine (come on and get it)_


End file.
